


If I Said I Want Your Body Now - Would You Hold It Against Me?

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard AU, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, also hey Wells is alive in this one (and stays that way)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5054155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin knows that being a Supreme Court justice's daughter comes with its downsides - she just wasn't expecting to receive a threat that makes her mother hire a bodyguard for her.<br/>And she definitely wasn't expecting Bellamy Blake to be the one hired.</p><p>Basically, Bellarke bodyguard AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Said I Want Your Body Now - Would You Hold It Against Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Let's - let's just all go with this, okay? I don't know, my brain's inner workings are an absolute enigma to me - that's why shit like this happens. 
> 
> Also, because I've realized that Wells is dead in most of my fics, here's one where he isn't! Run amok!
> 
> The title is from Britney Spears' Hold It Against Me and honestly, I just wanted it to be punny. And funny. You can be the judges of whether I succeeded.

The first time Clarke sees Bellamy Blake, her words are

“For fuck’s sake, mom.”

That’s the thing with being a Supreme Court justice’s daughter – it’s got its upsides and its downsides. The upsides include a lot of money, probably more influence than it should be allowed and the possibility to name-drop people into doing shit for you. 

The downsides include your mother being in favor of same-sex marriage and then receiving multiple threats that make her want to put on 24/7 protection on her daughter.

Abby Griffin is a good person, willing to fight for what is right, and Clarke was very aware of that when she gave the interview in which she declared herself as a bisexual who definitely wants to see the same-sex marriage bill pass. Her mother supported her, voted in favor of it, and that’s how the two of them found themselves around the kitchen table with somber looks on their faces.

At first, the threats only came via twitter and no one paid any heed to that. There’s always going to be assholes but they’re all bark and no bite. And then someone got a hold of their home address and Abby was the one to find the threatening letter in their mailbox.

Having finished reading the letter, made out of magazine cut-outs, movie style, Clarke rolled her eyes. “Oh look, another rape. Although, I’ve gotta give it to them - they really went into detail.”

Abby didn’t look amused, not one bit. “Clarke, they are threatening _you_. It’s one thing to threaten me, but you’re exposed.”

“I’m in college, mom. The only exposing I do is getting drunk and flashing people.”

“It’s not funny,” Abby reprimanded her and Clarke bit into her cheek. It was a _little_ funny. “This is serious. Whoever they are, they have our home address and it isn’t exactly a secret that you’re at Harvard.”

“So? Look, mom, we didn’t let assholes stop us before so why should we start now?”

“I’m not saying I’m going to change my politics, Clarke. All I’m saying is that we should be more careful. I’ll hand this to the authorities but in the meanwhile – I’d like you to have someone on you.”

Clarke blinked. “Like, what, security? Bodyguards?”

“Exactly.” At the sight of Clarke’s eyes narrowing, ready to protest, Abby hastened to add, “Not like that. Just one bodyguard. Just to keep you safe.”

“And to follow me around 24/7? While I’m in college?” Clarke snorted, crossing her arms at her chest. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Just for a while, Clarke, please.”

Clarke didn’t stick around long enough to listen to her mom’s pleas, having pushed away the chair and stomped her way to her room. She came back home for the weekend, ditching her previously made plans with Finn, Jasper and Monty, only to be ambushed.

It wasn’t that her mom didn’t get that sort of ideas periodically, usually bimonthly, but Clarke always managed to talk her out of it. It was usually enough to list all the self-defense courses she’d taken so she could definitely defend herself if it came to that. Not that it ever did.

And that’s why she was expecting Abby to drop the matter when she came into the kitchen the next morning, a stumbling mess with a bird’s nest on her head, in search for coffee. She didn’t get the apology, though. All she got was the shock of her life that made her drop her mug on the tiles and gape at the man in a black suit standing next to the fridge.

“For fuck’s sake, mom.”

She whirled away from the man who snorted at her words and turned to stare at her mother. Abby, for her part, at least had the decency to look apologetic.

“Clarke, honey-“

“No, mom, God. This isn’t the first threat you’ve received and I can fend for myself. I don’t need him,” she gestured towards the man, “to follow me.”

“It’s for your own safety.”

“It’s for my own nuisance is what it is,” she rolled her eyes and grabbed a rag to mop up the spilled coffee while trying not to lash out at her mom even more. She understood her concerns, of course she did, but no one ever came through and- well, Clarke liked her freedom.

In college everyone knew who her mom was. That was beyond the point. They knew but they also didn’t care and she was free to do whatever the hell she wanted. Not that she did a lot – mostly she just played video games with Jasper and Monty, hooked up with Finn and moped about their parents with Wells, but still – she liked the freedom to be able to do anything.

When she was done cleaning the coffee, she stood up to face the man again. He was still quiet and motionless, a permanent scowl etched on his face. He couldn’t have been that older than her, maybe a couple of years – twenty-five, maximum, but there was something so serious about him that made him feel like he was fifty already.

And he was hot but whatever, she never had bodyguard fantasies.

“What’s your name?”

“Bellamy Blake.”

“David recommended him,” Abby added. David Miller was her own head of security, a nice man whose son was guarding Wells at the moment. “I’m sure Mr. Blake will be up to the task.”

“Well, if Mr. Blake likes tasks that include following college girls around, sure,” Clarke shrugged, sipping her coffee and sizing him up. He looked like he could hold his own in a fight but then again, she never really understood why anyone would want to risk their lives to keep someone else – who they had no emotional connection to – safe.

“Feel free to call me Bellamy.”

“Yeah, okay. You want coffee?”

He nodded and she turned around, rummaging through cupboards until she emerged with a decent-looking cup. She wasn’t happy with the arrangement but she was raised to be polite so there’s that.

They finally sat down, working out the kinks of arrangement. Since there was college to worry about, Abby suggested that he move in the spare room of her apartment. She lived off-campus, for security reasons or something that was mostly a compromise on her part, which now meant that he would be living with her.

“I don’t want you in my classes,” she said and Blake glanced at her mother who nodded.

“That’s fine, I can wait outside.”

That only reminded her of what she’s been trying to forget for a while, and that’s that she is going to lose all of her relative anonymity she managed to gather when at college. Everyone knew about her mother but she also managed to become Clarke in their eyes, not Supreme Court justice Abby Griffin’s daughter.

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

She stomped to her room before anyone could stop her and slammed the doors shut behind her, feeling like every teenage girl in every chick flick everywhere. Her only hope was that Blake wouldn’t follow her, looking for hidden attackers in her closet, and she flopped down on her bed.

Wells answered after the third ring, voice heavy with sleep. “Clarke? Everything alright?”

Wells Jaha was one of Clarke’s oldest and closest friends, more like a brother than anything else, and since his father was a senator he was the only one who could actually understand what she’d been going through.

“No,” she said, petulant. “My mom hired a bodyguard for me.”

“Welcome to the club, I’ll start on the jackets. You want them to spell ‘First world problems’ or?”

“Shut up, Jaha,” she said, without any actual heat to it. “So how do I do this?”

“Want to tell me what happened first?”

“She received a threat. I mean, it was pretty elaborate and we got it at home so she’s understandably worried. But I’m still not cool with this. And now this guy, Blake, is coming to live with me.”

“Miller lives with me, too. It’s not all that bad,” Wells assured her and she was both thankful for her best friend and annoyed because he was probably right. “Is he young?”

“Miller’s age, more or less?”

“Oh, yeah. He probably knows Miller, then. It’s going to be fine, Clarke. You’ll get used to it.”

But she didn’t want to. She wanted to kick someone’s ass for threatening her mom and herself, but she definitely didn’t want to get used to having someone hot on her heels every time she made a step. Wells did get used to it but then again, Wells was a more decent person that she was.

And Miller was cool. Clarke doesn’t remember the last time she saw him in a suit. This guy, Blake, looked like he never took it off.

She thanked Wells nevertheless, told him she’d see him on Monday, and hung up the phone with a loud groan. Finn was probably the next person she should’ve called but she didn’t have the strength to.

How the hell was she supposed to do this?

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of his first week, Bellamy was pretty sure that he’d had worse. That still didn’t mean that he liked Clarke – or Princess, as he’d taken to calling her after she threw a hissy fit in Starbucks – but he protected more annoying people so there was that.

She wasn’t happy to having him trailing her, rarely anyone was, but she was torn between being polite and being pissy at times. For example, when he’d carried his boxes to her spare room (which – funny, his apartment was smaller than her spare room) she told him where he could find pots, pans, towels and everything else he needed.

And then she turned on him when he accompanied her to the building where she had her biology class, and whirled around to face him, hissing that she would end him if he followed her in.

All in all, Bellamy tried really hard to remember why he was doing this (so Octavia didn’t have to struggle with student loans) but he couldn’t help himself from pissing her off at least a bit.

By the end of his second week, he’d met most of her friends and they were all more or less benevolent. Monty Green and Jasper Jordan, people she hung out with the most, were funny kids who Bellamy wouldn’t believe to be IT and chemistry majors, respectively, if the fact that they smoked way more pot than what was healthy was anything to go on.

But they took him in stride when Clarke groaned out his name and explained that she now had a bodyguard, shaking his hand and inviting him to play video games with them. He politely declined, of course, but they didn’t stop being good hosts – making sure he had snacks and soda.

Clarke, however, didn’t deign to ask him anything, just rolled her eyes as she kicked their asses at Mario Kart, lounging on the futon in the room the two shared.

He was mostly content with being ignored by the spoiled brat. Most of them were like that and he learned to keep his distance, fit in with the scenery as much as he could, but this was the first time he had to go to college with someone. Still, he was pretty sure he was doing alright. Princess was still pissed off whenever it looked like she’d forgotten about him and then saw him in the kitchen, her smile turning into a scowl.

Wells Jaha was alright, too. Bellamy was friends with the guy assigned to him, Nathan Miller. Miller and his dad were royalty among bodyguards, in charge of their own security. It was easier when Clarke was with Jaha because then Bellamy and Miller could kick back, shooting the shit as the two did whatever it was they did when they were in Jaha’s apartment.

“So, how’s she?” Miller nodded towards Wells’ room, lounging on the couch. When the two of them were together, it was like having a day off – especially if she slept over. Jaha would bust out beers and chips for them, telling them to take a rest.

Wells Jaha was a decent guy, Bellamy had to admit that. Respectful of them, too – a far cry from most of the people he’d had to guard who pretended like he wasn’t even there. He’d switch Princess for Jaha any day.

“Typical.”

Miller raised an eyebrow at him and Bellamy sighed.

“Spoiled brat, like the rest of them.”

“Funny, she never seemed the type. She’s best friends with Wells so she was here all the time last and this year, and she was never anything but friendly.”

“Yeah, well,” Bellamy shrugged, sipping his beer as the Knicks kicked the Lakers’ ass. “She hates me.”

“You do have something about your face that really pisses people off, yeah,” Miller joked, protesting when Bellamy punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t know, man. She seemed nice.”

To Bellamy, Clarke seemed anything but nice – at least when he was considered. She seemed intense, focused, especially when she was studying. She argued with her TV whenever republican shit came on, threw popcorn and booed at people protesting in front of Planned Parenthood. When she painted, and she usually did that during the weekends, she was lost for the world. With her friends, she was funny, witty and considerate.

But with Bellamy, she was nothing but a sharp tongue, eyes rolling so much they’d probably fall out one day and every fiber of her body rejecting the very idea of him.

He started understanding her intolerance after Monty dropped by one day and he found himself talking to him as she got ready. Another thing that irritated him about her - she took her sweet time showering and there was hardly any hot water left by the time he could use it.

“She doesn’t hate you, you know?” Monty started, smirking at him behind his beer can. He frowned at the guy, wondering how the hell he read into that. It wasn’t like Bellamy went around screaming “Clarke Griffin hates me” and he sure as hell didn’t care even if she did.

“I never said that. “

“Didn’t you?” Monty cocked his eyebrow at him and after he realized that Bellamy was confused, he rolled his eyes playfully and explained, “I’m dating Miller.”

Oh, so that was the guy Miller kept blabbing about. Somehow he wouldn’t have taken Monty Green for his type but Miller was always an enigma.

“Clarke introduced us, actually. You’ve got to understand,” he leaned forward, “she _loves_ her freedom. Seriously, Clarke’s a bit weird about that. So she doesn’t hate you, she hates having to be at constant vigilance and she hates the paranoia. This is like she’s had her wings clipped off.”

“And what?” he scoffed. “Every time she sees me she’s reminded of that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Bellamy didn’t have time to reply because Clarke burst out of the bathroom then, throwing herself at Monty, all smiles and laughter. The two of them were close, affectionate, and Bellamy couldn’t help a wistful smile at the sight of them.

However, when Clarke stopped tickling Monty and turned around, he could see her face fall as she realized that he was there. It was like going from zero to one hundred in a second, sunny weather to stormy clouds, and he realized that Monty must have been telling the truth.

It didn’t change anything but he decided to cut her some slack, as much as he could given that he had his orders to keep an eye on her. Abby Griffin called to check in with him periodically since Clarke stopped responding to her calls, and he managed to catch a glimpse of their relationship. For the better part, they got along – especially when it came to politics. Bellamy watched news and he knew about Clarke’s interview before the voting on the same-sex marriage bill, the way she defiantly said that she wants nothing more than it to pass, seeing that she’s bisexual and would like to have the same privilege to marry the person of her choice. He remembered thinking that she was brave, a twenty-year old girl exposing herself like that.

Then he met her mother and he realized that it must run in the family. If anything, the two of them shared the same determination. Same world-views, too. But this time it meant that Clarke wouldn’t be the first to pick up the phone after her mother made her get a bodyguard. He would have done the same if he and Octavia were in that situation, but he still felt sorry about the radio silence between the mother and the daughter that were once – well, allies, for the lack of a better term.

That’s why, when Finn Collins stopped by for a night in, Bellamy excused himself and left. He usually stayed in his room, trying to give them as much privacy as he could. It was a good time to catch up on his books and Skype with Octavia, trying to keep it down as much as possible – help her forget that he was even there.

Clarke and Finn, for their part, were always as quiet and polite as he was. But she still looked relieved when he told her he’d go see his sister and leave them alone. That must have been the first time she smiled at him.

One thing was clear, though, Bellamy didn’t like Collins. Clarke seemed happy with him, he was a considerate boyfriend by all means, but there was something very off-putting about him that Bellamy couldn’t place his finger on. The guy smiled too much, he was way too friendly even when he shouldn’t have been and Bellamy caught him addressing Clarke with a patronizing tone once or twice.

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Clarke Griffin would be with someone who posed as a goody-two-shoes, Economics major, and whose idea of a productive conversation was debating on whether it was ethical of Bear Grylls to eat crickets and flies. Because they also have souls. Or something. Bellamy would just zone out whenever Collins was in his presence because he was equally boring and annoying.

Clarke still seemed to be into him, Wells didn’t seem particularly alarmed and so Bellamy forgot about it completely.

And he shouldn’t have.

 

* * *

 

 

Years later, Clarke would remember one particular moment that signified the start of the era in which shit repeatedly hit the fan.

She was walking across the campus, with Blake (and his stupid black suit he wore constantly - she suspected it was mostly to annoy her) in tow, trying to get some lunch before she had to go back to her classes when two things happened at the same time – she saw something that made her freeze in her tracks and Blake bumped into her.

Finn was standing across from her, next to the library, far enough for him not to spot her but close enough for Clarke to see a gorgeous brunette draped over him in what was a very non-just-friendly way. He didn’t seem to mind her kissing him from what Clarke could see, reciprocating just as passionately.

“Clarke?”

She glanced at Blake, frowning at her and at Finn, obviously having spotted the direction in which she was staring. “Stay here.”

She made her way towards them, her heart ripping itself to shreds and by the time she was only a few feet away from Finn and the girl, her fingernails had already made scratches on her palm from pressing into it.

Finn noticed her only after she cleared her throat, his eyes wide and a very frightened look in them. The girl, however, only frowned at her.

“Clarke-“

When he began stuttering, the girl caught on and slowly backed away from him until she was nearly shoulder to shoulder with Clarke. Finn’s expression told them everything.

“Clarke, this is Raven. She’s – she’s my best friend.”

The girl – Raven, Clarke mentally corrected herself – snorted, her eyebrows shooting into her hair. “Best friend? Is that what you call dating for five years?”

“Five-“Clarke sputtered, suddenly seeing red. Anger replaced heartbreak and she clenched her fists. “Five years!?”

“Yeah, what-“Raven started, eyeing Clarke and then she caught on again. “What the fuck, Finn?”

Now, Clarke has been told – repeatedly – that Finn is the most boring person in the world. He did always seem a bit pathetic, truth be told, but he was nice and kind, made her laugh enough to forget about all of the parts of her life that evoked nothing but sadness.

Seeing him sputtering through his lies, well – kindness and humor meant shit.

“Nice, Finn. Real nice. And here was I, thinking that six months meant something. Congrats, Raven,” she turned towards the girl. “We’ve just been played.”

“Finn, you better have an explanation for this.”

“I- I thought we’ve broken up, Raven! I mean, you know I was never the one for long-distance, I told you that-“

“You told me that we would make it work,” she hissed. “You told me that you’d wait until I was back. You told me a lot of things, mostly bullshit, seems now.”

“Raven, I never meant to hurt you. You have to know that. I love you. But like a friend, like – not like I love Clarke.”

Clarke blinked. “You didn’t just say that.”

Raven looked like someone had slapped her and Clarke had a nagging feeling that she looked more or less the same.

Finn seemed like he was about to talk again, his best puppy eyes in place, and Clarke swallowed hard before interjecting.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen, Finn.”

Honestly, she was sort of proud of how calm her voice was. Raven was staring at her at her side, and Clarke figured that the two of them would have to grab a coffee and key his car one of these days.

“You come near me or Raven, you bother us – you’ll wish you hadn’t been born.”

She was about to prove her point with her fists when Blake came into vision, flanking her at her right and Finn scoffed.

“Like Blake would do anything for you.”

“Blake would,” he said, calm, but there was an undertone of threat in his voice. “And when I’m done with you, you own mother won’t recognize you.”

Finn stuttered, backing away from them slightly and clutching his books as his eyes shot from Raven, to Clarke and then finally, to Bellamy.

“You – you can’t do this, I can – “

Clarke snorted. “You can fuck off. Right about now.”

When he left in a flurry of curses and empty threats, Clarke turned to Raven. The girl looked pissed off but, fortunately, not at Clarke.

“You good?”

“Yeah, that was – ah, fucking Finn. Should’ve known he’d do something like that,” she rolled her eyes. “Still, thanks. Clarke, right?”

“Mm. And this is Bellamy,” she gestured towards him and Raven shook his hand. Simultaneously, she realized that this was the first time she introduced him by his first name. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

They exchanged numbers, promising that they’d get together and figure out how to take their revenge and, while it didn’t make Clarke feel better, it made her feel just a little bit lighter.

Still, when Raven left and she was left alone with Bellamy, all of her thoughts came rushing back and a gut-wrenching feeling climbed up her spine, anxiety webbing through her body. She was good at thinking fast and keeping herself in check but it always drained her.

Bellamy looked concerned and she couldn’t find it in herself to lash out on him. He didn’t have to stand up for her, he could have just left it alone. But he didn’t.

“Clarke, what do you need?” His voice was much softer than she’d ever heard it and this sort of concern, caring – that’s what always made her break down crying in the end.

She wouldn’t cry in the quad.

“Can I just go home?”

Bellamy nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

 

During the next few days, Clarke fell in a vicious circle of crying on Wells’ shoulder, eating too much junk food and leaving her apartment only for her classes. Which she couldn’t even pay attention to because she was too angry with herself for believing Finn and his stupid lies, for reading him so wrong – thinking that he was legitimately nice, wouldn’t hurt a fly.

It was more anger than sadness. Ultimately, she wasn’t even in love with him. She appreciated him as a person, thought he was a good guy, but there was something always missing to make that last step – plunge into the unknown, fall in love.

But it didn’t change the fact that she’d been so stupid, for six fucking months, and that’s what always tied her down to the couch and reruns of shitty reality shows as Bellamy supplied her with enough Ben & Jerry’s to last a lifetime.

It was only when she was doing the same, eat, sleep, try to forget – rinse and repeat, for the tenth day in a row that Bellamy came out of his room and leaned on the doorway, observing her. At first she didn’t notice him without the suit and with his reading glasses on. He was more Bellamy than Blake, wearing sweatpants and a ratty band t-shirt, features softening with what must have been the comfort of his room.

“Do you need me to kill Collins, Clarke?”

She snorted, burying herself further into the blankets and pillows she stacked over herself until only her head peeked out of the mountain of fluff.

“I don’t want you to end up in jail. Pretty boys like you don’t fare well there.”

“Pretty boys?” he teased, and she stuck out her tongue at him. “Seriously, you need anything?”

She glanced at the empty pint of ice-cream and then turned to Bellamy again. “I could use more ice-cream. I think there’s some in the fridge.”

“It should be, I put it there.”

“Whatever, Blake.”

He returned with two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and threw one at her. It hit the blanket and bounced off of it, falling to the floor. Clarke nodded at her blankets. “I’m a bit incapacitated right now.”

“Because you’ve buried yourself in them,” Bellamy teased but he came over. “I’m not feeding you ice-cream.”

“You don’t have to,” she smiled, finding something amusing about the way he tried to sound annoyed but mostly just came off strangely fond. “But I could use company, if you’d like.”

His eyes widened behind the rims of his glasses but he covered up the confusion with a smirk and plopped down on the couch next to her, trying to unscramble her blankets. Finally, he managed to do it and she hissed at the sudden chill on her arms.

“Here, cookie dough-flavored.”

She scraped off some with her spoon and moaned when the taste of ice-cream hit her tongue. “Damn, that’s good. This is my favorite.”

“That’s what you said for chocolate chip and cherry and-“

“Ssh, we don’t talk about that.”

He grunted but she smiled victoriously and snatched his pint, placing hers aside. It was mint and chocolate and –

“This one is my favorite.”

This time he let out a long-suffering groan, throwing his head back and she couldn’t help a laugh that burst from her lips, a bubbly and bright thing – forgoing all the tension of the past ten days, everything shitty that had happened.

Bellamy seemed to notice that and he beamed at her in a moment of what must have been reckless abandon from his side. She’d never seen him smile and now it was just amazing, the way his features lit up and dimples creased his cheeks.  

“You should smile more.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”

She hummed in confirmation, wriggling a little to get comfortable in the blankets again and then handed him his ice-cream back, along with the remote control. He switched channels until he found History Channel and when she moaned in protest, he hushed her.

“It’s educative.”

During the next few hours, Clarke realized that Bellamy Blake was a nerd. A real, old-school _nerd_. If she was bad for yelling at the republicans, he was way worse when he corrected scientists in the documentaries and rolled his eyes whenever historically inaccurate costume was on the screen.

“That’s just stupid,” he said. “This is obviously Renaissance clothing, look at the collar. And they’re talking about the French Revolution, dear God, Clarke, just look!”

His arms flailed around wildly as he gestured towards the screen, exasperatedly sighing when she flashed him a look of utter confusion. But she wouldn’t let him off just like that. No, she’d definitely rib him for being a nerd.

“Bellamy Blake, are you a history buff?”

He looked severely unimpressed and she bit into her cheek to try to stop herself from smiling, keeping a straight, albeit a little shocked expression on.

“Come on, come out of the closet. I did, you can too.”

“I-“

“Yes or no, Blake, yes or no.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he said, petulant, and crossed his arms at his chest.

“Alright,” she faked nonchalance. “So, how do you feel about the Library of Alexandria?”

When he nearly shot up from the couch and resumed his flailing and wailing about _all that lost knowledge that took millennia to collect_ , she couldn’t do anything but grin. Bellamy Blake, a history nerd ranting about long-gone libraries – well, that was really something.

 

She didn’t know how exactly it happened but she thought she’d become friends with Bellamy. He was still scowling most of the time but he smiled when she cracked a joke, and she started getting the urge to do it in the first place.

The fact that he’s at her side almost constantly is still annoying but he talked her into calling her mom when he’d made lasagna for dinner knowing that she won’t be able to refuse him.

“That’s blackmail,” she told him, unable to make it sound like a scolding because his food is amazing and she’s weak.

He flashed her a shit-eating grin and dropped her phone into her lap. “Call her.”

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

Clarke huffed but dialed her mother’s number. When Abby picked up, she realized how much she missed her. The two of them have been through some rough times but they mostly got through it together. Not having her by her side was tough.

They made obligatory small talk, Abby told her that she was looking forward to seeing her at the benefit in June, and Clarke replied that she’d be happy to come. Benefits, galas and banquets were a part of her mother’s world and – by proxy – her own. They were bad, but not all that bad if she and Wells could steal a bottle of champagne, get drunk and then annoy republicans.

Since Wells was coming to the one in June, Clarke expected no less than a hoot. And she was pretty sure she could rope in Bellamy to join them, too. Miller always did.

“So, any news on who sent those threats?”

Abby sighed. “None so far. How – how are you and Bellamy getting along?”

Clarke glanced at him. He was washing the dishes and humming, seemingly unaware of stray water drops flicking on his shirt. It was nice.

“We’re good, yeah. He’s a nerd, mom. Are you sure you want a nerd guarding my body?”

Abby laughed when Bellamy shouted, “She’s lying, Ms. Griffin!”

“Yeah, he’s a closeted nerd,” Clarke added, chuckling. “I’ll help him. If I can.”

“It’s nice to see you two getting on so well. I was worried, at first.”

“Me too. But it’s fine. Seriously, mom,” she reassured her. “How’s work?”

They talked for a while after that, nothing too heavy – still testing the waters, but they knew the stream very well. They could fight and stop talking to each other but in the end, they were allies. And that’s all that mattered.

Bellamy looked smug when she hung up the phone and she threw a stray gum wrapper at him, cackling when it got tangled in his curls. These days it was easy to forget that he was working – he’d cook dinner, talk with her, and Wells and she always kicked his and Miller’s asses at whatever game they were playing.

It got even better on one completely ordinary Monday. Clarke’s classes were done for the day and she and Bellamy were just grabbing coffee at Starbucks when she realized that she doesn’t even know if he went to college. She asked him that, regretting it immediately after seeing him duck his head, clearly uncomfortable.

“Shit – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s a normal question,” he shrugged. “I just have a problem with it. Anyways, no. I didn’t go to college. Wanted to, but there were more important things.”

She knew bits and pieces about him – he had a younger sister who was at NYU, a year younger than Clarke. She knew that he was the one who named her – Octavia. He got into security when he was nineteen, it paid well and he didn’t mind doing it. There was also the fact that he was a history nerd, but that was about it.

Of course, he was a professional, even if she managed to forget that sometimes. She shouldn’t have asked him anything about his personal life but seeing that she did – she might as well go with it.

“Octavia?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want her to have student loans she could never repay. Besides, what would I do with a history degree? Teach or starve.”

She snorted. “Figures you’d want to study history.”

“It’s fun,” he protested and she waved him off. “And college looks like fun, from what I’ve seen.”

“If you base your expectations of college on my experiences – you are so wrong. I’m nothing, trust me. I barely even leave my apartment.”

“I _was_ worried about the lack of frat parties, to be honest,” he said, mock-earnest and she swatted him off.

But the conversation gave her a good idea, the one she discussed with Wells, Miller, Monty and Jasper when Bellamy took the weekend off. He did that sometimes, always apologized like crazy but Clarke seriously didn’t mind having sleepovers with Wells – that way Miller could keep an eye on her.

And of course, that particular weekend, it gave her the perfect excuse to come up with a brilliant, if a little devious, plan.

Monty’s feet were propped in Miller’s lap, the latter having a huge love-struck grin on his face that Wells and Clarke couldn’t stop smirking about, and Jasper was just opening a new six pack. Her friends were annoying and everything but she loved them.

“So, how’s Bellamy?” Wells asked, leaning back on his elbows on his living room’s floor.

“Funny you ask that, because I sort of have a plan?”

“You have a crush on him!” Wells exclaimed, turning around to Miller. “I knew it! Miller, I want my twenty bucks!”

Miller narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Wait – no, Wells, that’s not what I meant! Also, should I be worried that you’re betting on my crush on Bellamy?”

“So you _do_ have a crush on him?” he asked with a wry grin, not missing a beat.

“Jaha, you’re scaring me.”

Miller scoffed. “He scares me too.”

Monty, apparently, was the only one sane there, and he stopped what seemed to be evolving into merciless teasing of one Clarke Griffin. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to surprise Bellamy. He never went to college, you guys know that?” She rolled her eyes when all of them nodded, feeling like the shittiest human ever. “Okay, so you do. And, well, we can’t do much about it but I want to, you know, give him a real college experience.”

Monty beamed at her, Jasper nodded furiously, while Miller and Wells mostly just gaped in unison.

“What’re you staring at? I can be nice. I _can_!” Clarke protested but gave up after Wells playfully punched her shoulder, telling her to quit it.

“We’ll help.”

Since Clarke was a woman on a mission, but also a woman that had finals and had to study like hell, the first step was to show him what torture it was to have to cram a whole year’s worth of knowledge in a few days.

He wasn’t thrilled with that one, not that she’d expected him to, but after seeing him pout for four hours, she allowed him to go watch “that nerdy documentaries” of his and he skipped off into his version of the sunset – the History Channel.

She told him what was going on after he’d listened in on a history lecture she had to take but he was allowed to be there since – bodyguard and all. Abby had to help with that one but no one actually minded. His look of genuine interest left her a bit dumbfounded. It was one thing to listen to him rant about historical inaccuracies in her living room, but it was something completely else to sit next to him and have to stop snickering because he looks honestly interested, eyes wide, lips slightly parted and soaking in the knowledge.

Clarke was always aware of her privilege but it was true that she was still taking it for granted. College was a given for her, even if she moaned and bitched her way through it. It wasn’t for Bellamy and he was the one who should have had the opportunity.

Seeing him talk animatedly after the lecture, explaining his favorite parts to her, well – it left her with an unsettling feeling burrowed somewhere in her chest. There was so much genuine fascination in his words, passion about the subject as he talked on and on, and she found herself not even listening to him – just watching him.

He had freckles, something she was aware of but not like this. They were scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, makeshift constellations on bronze skin, dipping into where his dimples appeared when he smiled. If she could, she’d paint him, but she wouldn’t do him justice. People like him – they had to be seen in real life, not captured – never captured by anything.

His good looks were obvious, too. She’d been aware of how broad he was ever since she’d seen him first, but now she saw him in a different light – veins popping on his forearms, his chest rumbling as he shook with laughter when she teased him, smile crinkling his eyes and turning his gaze softer when it landed on her.

Bellamy Blake was a thing to behold and it wasn’t just that he was beautiful, but he was smart, passionate, kind. A bit of an asshole, yeah, but so was Clarke. He was a good person and she didn’t think her senses were fooling her this time.

But, as previously stated, she was a woman on a mission and she could postpone her crush.

The third step was a frat party. When Clarke told him as much, he frowned at her over his reading glasses and she had to tug him off of his bed.

“Come on, get dressed.”

“Frat party? Seriously, Clarke?”

“Deadly,” she nodded, throwing open the doors of his wardrobe and going through the drawers. Finally, she emerged with a black shirt and a pair of jeans and she pressed them to him. “Yeah, this’ll do.”

And with that, she left to get ready herself, texting Wells and Monty until they all confirmed they would be meeting them at the party. It took some string-pulling but ultimately, no one could refuse a senator and a justice’s son and daughter invitations to any sort of party.

Wells didn’t look thrilled to go but she guilt-tripped him into it nevertheless, cashing in a favor or two he owed her.

The party was, as suspected, loud and raucous. Sterling, the guy who got them the invitation, greeted them at the door and told them to help themselves to whatever they wanted. Which was beer from a keg, shady-looking punch in red solo cups and-

“Beer pong?” Bellamy whispered, slightly in awe. It still didn’t reach the levels of post-lecture awe but Clarke smiled nevertheless.

“Wanna play?”

His nod was enthusiastic but it turned out that he sucked at it, throwing the ball to the floor and huffing. Miller couldn’t stop laughing, not even when his boyfriend told him to cut it out. On the other hand, Wells and Jasper looked like they were observing a weird social experiment.

Essentially, that’s exactly what this was. Clarke rounded the room with them a couple of times, stopping off to show him “artifacts from a bygone era of college” in her best tour guide voice, usually just pointing towards stray socks on the floor and empty beer cans.

“I have seen socks, Clarke.”

“Yes, but these are _college_ socks.”

Bellamy chugged the beer from the beer keg, laughed triumphantly when everyone around him clapped and by the time dancing started they were all a little bit tipsy and definitely very happy. Jasper and Monty were sharing a joint on the rooftop of the frat house, much to Miller’s bemusement.

“Loosen up, Miller,” Wells teased at Clarke’s right while she leaned into Bellamy’s chest, trying not to let out contented purrs whenever he laughed.

It was comfortable, it was fun. It felt right. These were the sort of people she wanted to spend her life with. And even Bellamy had a place in their midst, having fit in with incredible ease once she let him.

Clarke often felt guilty for the first few months in which she ignored him when she could and groaned when she couldn’t. A great part of her plan stemmed from the fact that she was unfair to someone who was a totally okay person.

Other great part of her plan, really, came from her developing a crush on him. Yes, she could’ve asked herself if he was maybe being polite because it made his job easier, but – it seemed pointless. It wouldn’t lead anywhere anyways but she could be there in the moment, enjoying the way he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her a bit closer to his chest, almost instinctively.

And she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t like his voice booming next to her ear when he spoke, his hot breath on her cheek and the electricity that sparked whenever his hand brushed her skin.

She was a goner and judging by the amused looks everyone sent her when Bellamy wasn’t looking, they all knew. Even Miller smirked and Clarke flipped him off.

It was nice, listening to Monty and Jasper ramble about something physics-related in their pot-induced haze, Miller teasing them shamelessly and Wells groaning like he wasn’t secretly enjoying it. They were sitting on the rooftop, just shooting the shit and she was perfectly happy to be there.

But she made a mistake of yawning, unable to stifle it, and Bellamy tensed instantly. She wondered if being a nanny was part of his job description, too.

“We should go,” he said. Clarke hoped that no one would nod but then he stated the time, three in the morning, and they all agreed to leave.

“Fucking traitors!” she yelled after Wells and Miller who only smirked in unison as they went towards Miller’s car. Wells stuck his tongue out at her when the car passed them and she could be seen standing on the sidewalk, her feet killing her from her high heels and flipping him off, repeating that he was a traitor.

Bellamy laughed next to her and she punched him in the arm. “Don’t laugh, you’re just as bad as he is! Had to tell on me – for yawning!”

He leaned over to her and whispered conspiratorially, “I had a good time, you know.”

“You did?”

“Mm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, that’s – thank you for that.”

She wanted to snuggle up against him like a cat, rub her whiskers along his arm or something equally fuzzy, but she wasn’t a cat and therefore, the only thing she could do was smile. They walked down the road, the night warm enough not to have to get a cab.

There were a lot of things she could’ve said, of course, the moment they have been sharing since leaving the party stretching on into oblivion and allowing for all sorts of things. Even if she said something he wouldn’t have wanted her to, she could write it off as being drunk. But she wasn’t, hadn’t been anything but comfortably tipsy and high on happiness all night, and that euphoria gave her enough courage to turn to him when they were standing in front of her apartment building.

“Walking a girl home, that’s also a part of College Experience TM.”

He blinked at her and then a slow smile spread on his lips, eyes glittering with mirth.

“This isn’t my first time walking a girl home, Clarke.”

“Wow,” she rolled her eyes, trying to sound like she was hurt. “Way to ruin the moment, Blake.”

He raised his eyebrows but he was still smiling and she was still completely gone. “Oh, so we were having a moment?”

“Well, you know – we – we could be having a moment. Stars in the sky,” she pointed up, “warm night, finals are over. You’re walking me home and – here we are.”

Her gaze was fixed on her shoes now, shyness finally overtaking. And it was, it was a really nice moment but he could blow her off any second now and she couldn’t help but to feel anxious.

And then he spoke, voice laced with fondness she’d grown to like. “And here we are.”

“Mm.”

“I wouldn’t mind a moment, if you’d look at me now.”

So she did. Clarke looked up at him, no courage needed at all, and found all of her fears blown away when she saw the way he was looking at her – a small smile curling his lips, the stupid dimples again and eyes shining like the stars above them.

Gone, gone, gone and so happy that she was. She smiled at him and he took her hand in his, thumb rubbing patterns into her skin as he looked – just looked at her.

“It’s a really good moment,” she finally said, interlacing their fingers and stepping closer to him. This close, the top of her head barely reached his chin but she nestled into the crook of his neck comfortably, feeling her cheeks burn up.

He hummed in confirmation, unweaving their fingers and cupping her cheek in his hand, slowly lifting her head up and chuckling when she protested. Her cheeks still felt red hot and he smiled when he felt it.

And then it was too much, all the electricity crackling in the air between them, and she didn’t know who moved first but she was standing up on her toes and he was leaning down until they closed the distance between them.

His lips were soft and hers moved slow, searching for something she didn’t know she even wanted – something that could be reconciled only with his tongue brushing across the seam of her lips. And she let him in, leaning into his touch when she swayed on her toes and he pressed a hand to the small of her back to keep her from falling.

Bellamy tasted like chips and beer and something so distinctively him that she moaned into his mouth when he grazed her lower lip with his teeth. Their tongues swirled around each other, lips pressed against lips, and they parted with small kisses she imprinted on his mouth and he at the corner of hers.

It felt like butterflies and first loves, something so innocent about it that it made her eyes darken at the sight of his red and swollen lips, thoroughly kissed.

He smiled and she felt his breath on her chin when he spoke. “It really is a very good moment.”

“Hey, Bellamy,” she called, eyes still closed.

“Hm?”

“If I said I want your body now – would you hold it against me?”

His groan turned into a laugh and when she opened her eyes, the brilliance of his smile took away her breath.

“Wait, so who’s the bodyguard here? Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“Nah,” she smiled, tugging him up the stairs. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be guarding my body up and close.”

“Works for me.”

 

The following day, Wells looked way too smug when he saw them holding hands and Miller only shrugged, opening his palm.

“I’ll take my twenty bucks now.”

“Wait, what?” Bellamy blinked, alternating between looking at Miller and Clarke.

“They were betting on when we’d hook up.”

“I thought you wouldn’t need so much time,” Wells pouted, handing Miller the crisp bill.

Miller grinned. “Yeah, well. I took into account that they’re both incompetent.”

Clarke figured that they sort of were, yeah. But better late than never.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's that! Thank you all for reading and if you liked it, please remember the dynamic duo: kudos and comments!
> 
> I live for external validation when it comes to my fics and also I produce high-pitched guinea pig-like squeals when one of you lovelies leaves a comment. 
> 
> p.s. if you want to send me prompts or just see what i'm like when i'm not writing, check out my [tumblr](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com).


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